


Dark Pubs, Bright Eyes

by catchfires



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: F/M, a v cheesy title it's not as bad I swear, it's not finished I might make a second part but I'm still unsure about it, post breakup, this is maybe a bit sad I guess idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchfires/pseuds/catchfires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke and Y/N haven't talked since they split. Or so until he decides to call her at 3am after getting drunk on bourbon shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Pubs, Bright Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this hasn't been proof read so I'm already cringing at the weird word usage but yeah

The echoing "goodnight"s and "I’ll see you tomorrow"s still in his head as he swallowed the liquid left in his glass. He felt it burning down his throat, leaving a bitter taste and small ache. Luke had never been one to go to bars and get drunk on his own, especially not at such odd hours as 3am, yet there he was, looking at the now empty glass, feeling like his head was too heavy for his neck to lift. His awkward attempts at flirting with the bartender had failed and that only lead to him overthinking; overanalysing. The small bits of memories hit him every once in a while as he was trying to think of a coherent way to ask for another drink, and they really did it him. Though they were only fragments of things you shared, they made him relive every moment over again – tearing him apart; it felt as though someone had been punching the oxygen out of his chest.

 

Everything reminded him of you. The way lips curved upwards, lively smiles and small hands, the smell of cheap alcohol and fairy lights; everything he could think of. Even the pouring rain and burn pancakes, breakfast tea and laying on the couch; you were everywhere, haunting him. He used to think it was the price he was to pay for letting you go, for surrendering to the easier option, this being giving up on you. Giving up on helping you understand that your flaws only made you more beautiful to him, if that was even possible. But he had always had a problem when it came to expressing his feelings in words rather than actions. And you had always had a problem when it came to understanding actions instead of listening to words.

 

You were still so present in his life that he swore he could hear you unlocking the front door and yelling "hello" every now and then, but you weren’t there when he checked, of course. He could still feel your fingertips on his shoulders, imagining you sitting on his lap and throwing your head back in laughter. He could also still feel your shaky breaths on his neck as he thrusted into you, gripping the headboard. Everything was still there, memories, photos of moments you shared, now forever frozen in time, there to remind him what it felt like to hear you stumble around his flat in the mornings, or to feel you pressed against him under the blankest while you heard cars pass on the street beneath you.

 

The pictures hanging on the wall, your small gloves still guarded in his cupboard. The only things gone were you andyour number on his phone, but he had memorised both perfectly. Every little freckle, every single number. 

 

Before he could stop himself he was drinking the next shot of bourbon and hearing the line ring.

 

Every second hurting more than the next, especially when he heard your voice on her other line. Still the same perfect sound to him, he could listen to you talk for hours and maybe fall asleep, but never grow tired of it.

 

"Hello?" a small pause, he was still breathless "who is this?" and it hit him. You hadn’t memorised him, not him and not his phone number. He felt his stomach twist and turn before he had the courage to say anything.

 

"Hey – it’s me" he swore he heard you gasp through the phone, and he didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. He told himself that it was better than no reaction. "Um, I- I… Listen, I know I shouldn’t have-" he was still stumbling on his own words before you interrupted him.

 

"Why are you calling?" the warm tone you spoke with earlier now completely faded.

 

"I- Y/N, I know I haven’t called you since we split but I- I just wanted to explain something" you felt your heart shrink a bit when those words left his mouth, cringing a bit, trying to ignore the voice in the back of your head reminding you of how much you missed his awkward late night calls. 

 

"Okay. What is it?" You could hear him sigh on the other line, you just weren’t sure if it was in relief or because it was making him anxious.

 

"I noticed something." He waited for a few seconds before continuing "I- I forget a lot of things, many, many things; you already know that. B- I realised I still remember your number. Which is quite impressive if you ask me, considering the six shots of bourbon I’ve had" You could hear him chuckle awkwardly, not regretting a word, yet probably.

 

"Go home Luke" his chuckles, stopped, and you know his heart just stopped for a second "Please just- go." You wanted to tell him to never call you again. You wanted to _tell_ him, but you wanted him to call. You wanted to hear his voice, his laugh; him, you missed it all. You missed everything. You didn’t realise you missed the last train home when you let go of his hand that last time. And maybe it was better that way, maybe you had a chance to be happier without him. But you barely felt anything when his calls stopped, when the sweaters you borrowed were the only thing left. The letters he never got to read, things you never dared to say.

 

"I need your help Y/N" you sighed, "see, I’m at the green pub, if you remember – and I’m drunk, I can’t drive to my flat Y/N"

 

Of course you remember, every corner, the small toilet cabins, the way his eyes sparkled regardless of how terrible the lighting there was.

 

-

 

"Thank you so much – I can’t thank you enough" You just nodded as you closed his door and walked around the car to the driver’s seat "And I know you’re pissed that you have to pick me up at this shitty pub, and at me for getting drunk, but-"

 

"Luke, please. We can talk another day" You felt his eyes on you while you started the car, his hand touching yours for a second. Making you look up and stare into his piercing blue eyes.

 

"I miss you. And I- I don’t know what to do" He stopped you when you tried to interrupt him "Okay, I know it’s pathetic, I know I should be over you. I should be over the way your fingers wrap around the steering wheel, I should be over your laugh and the sweet things you used to say to me. But I’m not, not even slightly; every second since you left, since I- I let you go, has been suffocating. And all I can think of is how you tasted and your small snores, the way you woke me up with kisses and the smile that eventually came every time I tried to cheer you up. I should be over it all, but you’re still here." 

 

"Lu-" Your words cut off again.

 

"No. Listen to me." You were a bit shocked at his sudden confidence, something he had always sort of lacked "You’re everywhere. You’re in the pictures, in the letters, in the pancakes. The shower, my clothes, even my neck. You’re literally everywhere and still gone and it’s killing me, every second of it is." 

 

You were speechless, not knowing what to say. You tried to say the words you had thought about so much in the past four months, but your mouth didn’t open.

 

"I love you Y/N. And I’m so sorry I made you leave, I’m sorry I didn’t fight. I know I should’ve" 

 

Before you noticed your hands were tangled in his hair and you had your lips moving against his. Suddenly forgetting everything. Forgetting the pain, the bad days. All there was were your lips and his, together, for a moment, before you pulled away, and lost yourself in his eyes again. "I do too."


End file.
